


Taking Your Lumps

by Warp5Complex_Archivist



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-05
Updated: 2006-03-05
Packaged: 2018-08-16 00:52:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8080312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Warp5Complex_Archivist/pseuds/Warp5Complex_Archivist
Summary: PWP (porn with pineapple). (10/16/2002)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Kylie Lee, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Warp 5 Complex](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Warp_5_Complex), the software of which ceased to be maintained and created a security hazard. To make future maintenance and archive growth easier, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but I may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Warp 5 Complex collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Warp5Complex).

  
Author's notes: I promised myself and various relatives that I would not write any fan fiction for the month of October since I need the time to work on my novel, but I didn't want to make my lovely Kiwi wait. Some of what happed to 'AndrÃ© Abbott' actually *did* happen to a Norwegian named Andres my sis and I met at the train station in Nuremberg way back in 1991. We were on our way to Norway to visit a friend's family, and with the somewhat frighteningly zealous help of a 20-something American, we did manage to smuggle the desperately drunk Norwegian through about two countries to help him get home. Of course, no robots were involved. Joanne, this one's for you.  
  
Thanks to Squeaky the Splendid for the quick beta. Sorry I can't send you any of these yummy pineapple lumps, but at least Reed Pineapple Chewies are far less fattening.  


* * *

The door to Malcolm Reed's quarters slid open from someone using his code. "Hullo, Trip," he said without looking up from the padd he was reading. He chuckled to himself and thumbed the button to scroll to the next page.

"What 'cha got there?" Trip asked. He was carrying his own padd. It was full of schematics he absolutely intended to go over, just the way he had since Ensign Lawless had dropped it on his desk that morning. He had finally brought it with him to Malcolm's quarters when his shift ended, figuring he could read it there. And he would. Really. But whatever Malcolm was reading seemed a lot more interesting.

Malcolm chucked again. He was sitting cross-legged on his bed, wearing cutoff jean shorts and a black t-shirt. He was leaning against the bulkhead behind him, with the datapadd in his lap. There was a small plastic bag next to his right leg, and as Trip watched he pulled a small, chocolate-brown rectangle out and popped it into his mouth.

He didn't answer Trip right away, but that was all right; the commander was admiring the view. Even if those cutoffs used to be his. They came a little low on Malcolm's thighsâ€”almost brushing his kneesâ€”but otherwise seemed to fit him okay. Trip couldn't remember why Malcolm had borrowed them, but decided it was a nice idea.

"Pineapple Lumps," Malcolm said finally, after he'd finished chewing and swallowing. He held up the bag, his attention still on his padd. "Have one."

"Pineapple Lumps?" Trip asked dubiously. He made a face. "Sounds like a disease."

"That," Malcolm said decisively, finally looking up from what he was reading, "is because you're a bloody uncouth redneck who wouldn't know a proper confection if it leapt up and bit you in the arse. These," he continued as if in a lecture hall, "are bits of pineapple covered in nougat and chocolate, and among the finest delicacies known to Man." He ruffled the bag a little bit, making the plastic crinkle. "Have a piece. Go on," he urged when Trip still hesitated, "it's chocolateâ€”not poison." Trip shook his head. Malcolm shrugged finally and turned his attention back to his padd. "Suit yourself. All the more for me, then." He picked another rectangle from the bag and chewed it as he read.

Trip made a noncommittal grunt and sat on Malcolm's couch. He picked up his own padd and began to read it. He had just started concentrating on 'figure 1' when Malcolm burst out laughing.

"Okay, that's it," Trip dropped the padd to the cushion beside him. "What the hell're you readin' that's so damn funny?"

Malcolm looked up, grinning. "It's a letter from André." He held up the plastic bag of pineapple lumps again. "He's the bloke who sent me the resequencer card for these."

He was about to go back to reading, but Trip's voice stopped him. "Who's André?"

"Ah," Malcolm said. "Who is André, indeed?" With an air of genuine regret he put the datapadd aside, then leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. "André Abbott is one of the best sailors the world has ever seen." Malcolm smiled, his eyes far away as he remembered. "I met him in Germany about a million years ago. He was on his way to Italy to join a boat crew."

Trip's belly heated with the tiniest spark of jealousy, but he firmly pushed it aside. He'd never heard of this André Abbott before. "How'd you meet him?"

Malcolm laughed, shaking his head. "In Nuremberg, on a train platform. The poor bastard had met up with two Swedes and an Australian the night before. Apparently they'd had quite a piss-up in the train car and he'd ended up leaving his passport and rail pass on the seat when he got off. He was a wee bit panicked about getting all the way to Italy without them, as you can imagine."

"Oh yeah," Trip was beginning to smile now, too. "So what happened?"

"He was barely sober enough to walk straight when he found me," Malcolm said. "He was so overjoyed to hear someone speaking English that I thought the poor blighter was going to burst into tears. It took a bit of doing, but I was finally able to get enough coherent sentences out of him to find out what the problem was. He was damn lucky that we happened to be traveling on the same train."

"I'll bet," Trip agreed. He was leaning forward on the couch, totally caught up in Malcolm's story. "And then what?"

Malcolm shrugged as if the next part was obvious. "I sneaked him all the way from Nuremberg to Rome, then helped him get a new passport at the New Zealand Consulate."

Trip just looked at him. "You're kidding."

"Not at all," Malcolm said. His smile had become wicked. "It was simple, actually: I'd wait until the little conductor-bot started trundling down the corridor, then I'd haul André to the lav and shove him in. Since I was the only one who had swiped my rail pass when we boarded, the robot assumed there was only me in the car. It tagged both backpacks as mine and went on its merry way. Then I'd go grab André again." Malcolm smirked. "He's still not entirely sure about everything that happened."

"Wow," Trip said, but the little spark flared just a bit brighter; something about the way Malcolm had said 'everything.' "Sounds like he was damn lucky you were going to Rome, too."

Malcolm was obviously enjoying the memory. "That's the thingâ€”I wasn't going to Rome. I was going to Normandy. I was planning on taking a hover ferry back to England."

"Oh." Trip let his head drop forward, suddenly finding a great deal of interest in his Starfleet-issue boots. "So, how'd you get home?" He couldn't help hoping that Malcolm had abandoned his newly-passported charge at the Consulate and taken the next available train back to Paris.

"Ah, well," Malcolm laced his fingers behind his head and made himself more comfortable against the wall. "That did take a bit longer than I had originally planned." Trip glanced up at his tone of voice, and his jaw clenched at the contented-cat smugness of the lieutenant's smile. "Rome turned out to be more...interesting than either of us had originally suspected."

Trip doubted very much that his lover was talking about the historical sights. He sighed, trying to beat down the steadily rising tide of jealous anger, and failing miserably. "So," he asked, voice caustic, "did this André guy ever get to his boat, or was he too busy screwin' you to make the regatta?"

Malcolm blinked and his eyebrows lowered with puzzlement. It made his blue-gray eyes look remarkably innocent. "What on Earth has gotten into you?"

"Nothin'," Trip said. He dropped his head again, waving his hand as if to clear the words out of the air. "Nothin's got into me. Forget it. Sorry I said anything."

Malcolm still sounded confused, and almost hurt: "you _did_ ask me who sent the letter."

"No," Trip looked at him again, "I _asked_ ya what was so funny." The jealousy was still there, burning nastily. "I didn't expect ta hear about your fuck-tour of Europe with some Kiwi boat-jockey."

"I didn't-!" Malcolm paused. He moved forward, lowering his hands and sitting now on the edge of the bed with his bare feet touching the floor. "Not that it's any of your business," he said icily, "but André and I did not do...a 'fuck-tour' of Europe as you so inelegantly put it." He looked Trip up and down, as if deciding something about him or the uniform he was wearing. "We did spend time together. Not for long, but it was very pleasant. Eventually he joined a different crew and I went homeâ€”end of story. Surely you didn't expect me to be a virgin when we met?"

"Now, that ain't it at all!" Tucker got to his feet, padd forgotten. "Ah don't give a rat's ass what y'did or didn't do before we met!" His accent was getting stronger as his voice rose. "But ah don't need ya t'go parading yer past conquests like they were yer god-damned boy-scout badges!" He huffed, glaring at Malcolm.

The lieutenant's mouth twitched in a smile. "Eagle Scout. They were Eagle Scout Badges."

Trip glowered.

Malcolm's smile widened again. "Good lordâ€”you're jealous, aren't you? You're jealous of André!"

"Ah'm not!" But Trip could feel the blush coming, rising from his collarbones to the roots of his hair.

"My word," Malcolm said. He tilted his head, an eyebrow raised as if questioning. "Trip is jealous of one of my past relationships. What ever can I do about that?"

"He writes ya letters," Trip grumbled, gesturing at the padd on Malcolm's bed.

"-And sends me pineapple lumps," Malcolm added. He took a step forward, then another until he was standing directly in front of Trip, close enough that there was barely room to breathe without their chests touching. Trip tried to take a step back, but the couch was directly behind him. "Goodness gracious," Malcolm continued, "it's a wonder I haven't run off with him already!"

"It's not funny," Trip said. He didn't care how petulant he sounded.

"Yes it is," Malcolm said softly. He reached up to lightly run two fingers along the line of Trip's jaw. "It's terribly funny that you could even imagine I'd want anyone else."

Trip shuddered at the contact and the tickle of Malcolm's breath on his neck. "Malc-"

"Please do shut up Commander," Malcolm said gently, "I'm trying to prove something to you."

Malcolm pulled Trip's head down for a kiss; sliding his tongue between the other man's lips the instant Trip's mouth was open. Malcolm tasted like the chocolate he'd been eating. His tongue was insistent, smooth and warm. Trip thought about pulling away, not making this so easy for him, but he didn't. He wanted this too badly, wanted Malcolm. He kissed him back fiercely, as possessively as he could manage, pulling Malcolm close. His left hand slid under the hem of Malcolm's t-shirt to rub at the base of his spine. Malcolm's response was to rub his groin back and forth against Trip's, and Trip could feel the hard shape of his arousal even though the tightness of the jeans. Trip growled into the lieutenant's mouth and he heard Malcolm's throaty chuckle in response.

Trip had his eyes closed, but he felt the zipper on his uniform opening, the touch of Malcolm's hands as he pushed it off his shoulders. He felt the cloth bunch around his elbows, and then Malcolm was leaning his head back to make tiny nibbling kisses along his jaw, down to where the bone met the curve of his throat.

Trip moaned, his eyelids fluttering. He was frustrated that the waistband of Malcolm'sâ€”well, hisâ€”cutoffs was too tight to give better access to his hands. He slid his palms around to the front, but his arms were trapped by the sleeves of his uniform and he couldn't reach the buttons.

Malcolm took Trip's hands gently away. "Shhh," he whispered. Then he took Trip's arms and pushed him backwards, just hard enough to make him fall back onto the couch. Malcolm grinned as he followed, his storm-cloud eyes flashing.

He kissed Trip again, fiercely, adroitly pulling the blue uniform sleeves off his lover's arms. Once free, Trip reached for him again, but Malcolm just grinned and took his wrists, holding them against the gray cushions. He grinned against Trip's mouth, then quickly ducked back and let go Trip's arms. He reached for the hem of the commander's black uniform shirt and pulled it off him in one solid yank, almost ripping it. He tossed it disdainfully to some corner of the room. Trip didn't even have a chance to see where it had fallen before Malcolm's lips were on his again.

"Malc," he whispered as soon as the lieutenant let him up for air. They were both panting: Malcolm looked flushed, aroused and somehow marvelously dangerous. "Malc, wait," Trip tried to put a hand on his chest as he leaned in again. "I want-"

"Shhh," Malcolm said again, "allow me, love." He smiled, and this time reached for the blue undershirt.

The blue tank went the way of the black t-shirt, and then Malcolm had Trip's wrists again. His hands held him insistently but gently as he traced kisses up to Trip's earlobe, pulling it into his mouth with his tongue. He closed his teeth around it with just enough pressure for Trip to feel it, then began sucking. Trip shuddered, the tingle along his nerves running straight to his groin.

Malcolm's lips began moving downward, tracing the cord on the side of Trip's neck, then nipping over the collarbone to his chest. He circled one nipple, gently scraping at it with his teeth. Trip groaned and he could feel the rumble and jet of air as Malcolm chuckled against his skin.

Malcolm pulled away then, and Trip blinked at the loss of contact. Malcolm saw his expression and just smiled, then slid his hands down Trip's sides until his thumbs were hooked into the waistband of Trip's blues. Trip grinned, obediently lifting his hips so that Malcolm could slide his briefs and uniform down to his ankles. Malcolm dropped a kiss on his thigh, then kneeled between his legs. The lieutenant unzipped one of Trip's boots then the other, never taking his eyes from the commander's. He pulled them off one at a time, then slowly peeled off each sock then finally the last of Trip's clothing.

He stayed like that, leaning back on his heels as he rubbed his palms along Trip's thighs, looking up into his lover's face. Trip reached forward and entwined his fingers through Malcolm's, then leaned forward and they shared another kiss. When he came up for air, Trip touched his forehead to Malcolm's. The position was a little uncomfortable for him, but he didn't care. "No fair," he murmured, their lips almost touching, "I'm totally naked an' you're not."

Malcolm just smiled. Then he leaned down and took Trip's cock into his mouth.

Trip groaned and closed his eyes. He let his head fall back, ignoring the thump when it connected with the wall behind him. All he was really aware of was the hot, slick wetness of his lover's mouth on him, the contrast with the cool air as Malcolm moved his head up and down. Their hands were still moving together, slowly back and forth on Trip's thighs, in the same rhythm Malcolm was using. Trip groaned again and clenched his fingers.

Malcolm swirled the blade of his tongue over the head of Trip's penis, dipping it down to lick at the rounded sides and then running it over the sensitive slit. Trip gasped, his hips bucking automatically. He could hear Malcolm's approving growl, feel the vibrations shuddering through him.

Trip could feel himself tightening, right at the edge. "Malcolm!" He moaned, head tossing from side to side as he fought for some shred of control. He stopped moving his hands, making Malcolm's go still as well. Trip could feel his arms shaking.

He came explosively, his body shuddering with the strength of his release. Malcolm kept sucklingâ€”Trip could feel himself throbbing against his lipsâ€”forcing every last bit out of him in pulsing waves.

Malcolm slowly raised his head, letting Trip's cock slide out of his mouth. Trip shivered at the sensation, finally letting go of Malcolm's hands. The lieutenant stood up, leaning forward to kiss him on the tip of his nose.

"Wow," Trip said quietly. He felt sleepy, incredibly sated. He was still panting and figured he was probably grinning like an idiot, but he didn't care. "Wow," he said again, "that was...amazing." The word seemed inadequate.

"Glad you liked it," Malcolm said, a little smugly. He turned and sat on the couch so that he was between Trip's legs, and the commander obligingly wrapped his arms around him, pulling Malcolm back so he could nuzzle against his neck.

"Yep," Trip agreed. He squirmed his hands under Malcolm's t-shirt so that he could feel the smooth hardness of his abdomen. "This ain't right, though," he sighed against his neck, "If I'm naked then you should be too." To emphasize his point he fumbled until he found Malcolm's fly, then began undoing the buttons. It was a little difficult to do by touch alone, but he was sure he had at least two open before Malcolm moved.

"Wait," Malcolm said. He got up quickly, leaving his fly half-open, and went back to the other side of his room. He snatched up the small plastic bag of pineapple lumps and grinning, carried it back. He handed it to Trip, who looked from the bag back to Malcolm, perplexed.

Malcolm winked. "I promise I'll take my clothes offâ€”if you try one."

In the end, Trip decided that despite their name, pineapple lumps really weren't all that bad.


End file.
